


breakage

by macha



Series: Georgia on My Mind [12]
Category: Ang - Fandom, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-21
Updated: 2008-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macha/pseuds/macha





	breakage

###    
_A03.06.03 Ad Astra Era: in the game, we are finished._   


and the name of the tale is:

  


### breakage

  


She'd acquired a houseboat, they'd been there so long. Called it a houseboat, anyway; more like a barge. Worst of both worlds really, a little boat you couldn't even sail off in. Had to be towed instead. She was beginning to see why Drusilla favored sailboats and freighters she could move all by herself. But hey, if it was good enough for Duncan MacLeod, a fellow immortal, who was she to complain?

And speaking of MacLeod, she was also learning the fine art of swordplay, first from Spike and then from a katana master Spike scared up somewhere. Maybe literally. Guy must have owed Spike a pretty big favor from the look in his eye when she really fucked up, but she was used to that look, it seemed to have her name on it, and she'd been seeing it all her life. Still trying to be worthy, some way, from time to time. And how lame was that?

Anyways, a pretty decent life, where she could party in the dockside bars, get fast fast relief in the donnybrooks every night, do the notsopretty boys or sometimes girls that took her fancy, and never take them home to where she lived. Spike would come down to join her sometimes, for sparring practice, risking the sizzle, or in the hope of what he called a spot of righteous violence. It was always easy between them: they really were two peas in a pod. She always patrolled; it was who she was.

Buffy only came if there was slayer business. And plainly failed to understand why she was so determined to make a place for herself apart. Not that she really understood it either, but no use talking to B, for whom home was a word that meant something that wasn't loaded. Sometimes she thought herself it wasn't much, the way she lived. She washed her dishes, which kept the roaches down, and thought of that as living well. Everything depended on where you started from, that's all. She could see Spike noticing from time to time the stuff she didn't bother with. But that was good, he wasn't finicky by nature, so what he noticed gave her a standard of measure she could understand well enough to try to meet.

In some kind of unacknowledged way, even then, she kept an eye on Drusilla. Their territories seemed to overlap to some degree, and maybe it was just the universal urge to piss on her own territory, or maybe she had some dim sense that her and Dru had all too much in common, in too many ways. They did too, though it wasn't till later on they both learned just how much, but meanwhile by damn she was still a vampire slayer and duty called. The duty to protect, that is, not the Pollyanna urge to fix that came over even her sometimes. And anyhow Dru didn't seem interested in being salvaged, or maybe she thought of herself as salvaged already, it was hard to tell.

Spike warned her against even thinking of Dru in that light, that one time they talked about souls and saveage, and she figgered he knew a whole lot more about all of that than she ever would. Buffy just said 'leave Dru to Darla'. Where Faith came from that sounded a lot like 'leave her to god', who'd never done her any good at all. She doubted Dru's mileage on that one was any better, either, though Faith (and Dru too, come to find out later) probably had a much better line on the way things worked with god connections than Buffy was ever likely to acquire. So she left well enough alone, much as she felt she could. Questions of jurisdiction, though, and questions of intel did arise from time to time, the way they tend to do in disputed territory. But when they did have to have a chat, Dru always seemed to give Faith a lot straighter answers than she thought anyone else would credit, she didn't know why that was. She settled for telling herself they'd established a fairly decent working relationship, and left it at that.

But Dru was spaced, burnt, so she was wary. And of them all she was the only one who always chose to present as flatout inhuman. She didn't know what it meant: was it a warning beacon? Funny, how much they still counted on what they knew wasn't there, that common humanity thing. But Dru never tried to pass, and maybe in her heart of hearts Faith was afraid of the power never hidden in Dru's not-human eyes. What the hell reason, after all, did Dru have to cooperate, much less make common cause? If reason operated in any way at all. And saying Darla brought her, like an unwelcome guest, didn't commit Dru to much of anything, if she decided to suddenly change her tune. Predictable, after all, she wasn't. So okay, to say she had no issues with Drusilla would have been off the mark.

But having her in-house scared the shit out of Faith, who was after all a freaking vampire slayer, and she was pretty sure Dru knew exactly to what extent, though she never played it or pushed it when their paths did cross. She'd noticed from time to time that Dru had taken to following her on some of her little midnight rambles. She was very good at stealthy, but Faith had those spidey senses too. What was she up to? Dru wasn't exactly a person you wanted to have on your trail; but sadly she wasn't a person you could safely tell to stop. Hell, she wasn't a person any way at all, so people rules of engagement didn't at all apply. So it went right on making her nervous.

It was a spacer port of call, the planet Parvati, which was why they'd been here so long that even Faith got kinda comfy downworld. So dockside was rough in the same way it had always been even back on Earth before the last war. But Faith Lehane had started life in the dockside bars and rough trade haunts of the port of Boston. She knew the territory, and though okay it wasn't so swell, it was real, it was what she came from, and she knew the score. She wasn't slumming, she was more at home there than she was in the ship Revello Drive, which every time she was there she felt like she was trying to pass, you know? when she didn't, couldn't belong there. Like the tattoo on her arm, reminding her that she was born to lose.

Dockside, she could hold her ground, and say to herself, 'live to fight another night', and feel like she was holding up her end of the bargain. Knowing that some night, she'd go down. But wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? Not like she was The Slayer. She was just a slayer. And why Buffy wanted Faith beside her, especially with only broken Dana to take her place if she crunched, be damned if she could figger. Not like Buffy had much patience with lame ducks, as a general rule, so what the fuck was that about? B, of course, cornered on the subject in the interest of inquiring minds who wanted to know, couldn't manage even to make a stab at explaining it, so no answers there. Return of B's old death wish, maybe? Faith even asked Spike in case he had a line on it, but he just looked at her like it was one of the many things she was supposed to know already. But all she'd ever known in life was what her gut told her, and all it told her on this one was that she probably shouldn't have had that third hot dog on top of all that rotgut whiskey.

Anyway, when the shit hit the fan she wasn't exactly surprised, since that's the way it always was in her vicinity, but it wasn't just the result of being careless. It wasn't. She only wanted to be free of all the goddamned responsibility, just for a little while. Free of the deepdown conviction that she couldn't be what B wanted her to be, couldn't do what B thought they needed. Wasn't it Buffy's anyway, the whole destiny thing? Even if she did like to kick at the pricks. It wasn't her. It was never her. Point her at something, sure, but without someone to do the pointy what was she worth, really? Somebody had to be the fuckup in the operation. The goat. Short lifespan, but ain't life grand?

So in the moment, that moment, all she wanted to do was dance. Well, and maybe scratch an itch. Still not too drunk to function if there was a slayer call. Still had the beeper if she needed backup. Still had the slayer senses handy. Still had the shared dreams to feel the urgency of the job she did. Still had the juice for taking back the night in her own frigging neighborhood, if need be. Everything in its place except the death wish thing. Which wasn't her. Or so she thought.

But she'd missed - too many somethings. So had they all. When it came down on her, it wasn't a simple lynch mob, it was more like a flash mob, winking into her space from nowhere. Too freaking many, and way organized. A different kind of lowlife than the casually brutal kind she had grown up with, and almost into. She lost the beeper before she even thought to use it. Too many, and too late.

She tried to run, but running wasn't on. An alley at her back, no exit but the one. Okay, up against the wall with motherfuckers. Fifty? Hard to be dangerous deprived of weaponry, space to move. When they take you down, you're really finished. But she couldn't get up. She lost the boots. Then the empress had no clothes. But plenty of holes, with leakage. Snot dripping as a last indignity; when you can't move, you can no longer wipe. Well, c'est la vie, or so they say, and maybe she could sneeze on the bastards, still do some damage.

They formed a line. Last exit to Aldebaran, didn't she see that movie once? Let's not remember. Was she supposed to survive this too? Bravado could only carry her so far, not far enough. This lesson must be intended for slayers, meant to set an example. Could she still warn them, some way? She had to think, never her best thing. Getting too close to something, maybe that was it. Probably something she didn't even know about. Council business, the kind of stuff she called Buffy's, and slept through. Clearly something she shoulda known about. Why didn't she? Time to not think.

She didn't come from a world where you said 'this too shall pass', endured it, and waited patiently for a better day to come; she operated on instinct and rage and adrenalin. There wasn't anything she could grab onto to use in all of this. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, that was bullshit. She wasn't built to just take the heat and wait forever on faith that a better day would come; the faithverse didn't work like that, and it wasn't even in the arsenal. 'i quit', she told the universe, which as usual wasn't listening. Buffy was gonna need to find somebody else to fill that tiny hole she might leave going out. But then wasn't that the whole story right there? B was gonna need to find somebody better anyway. Somebody stronger. Somebody less toxic, less damaged. Somebody who didn't carry the slayer line around with her, like a growth in her side, like as if they needed that anyways anymore, what with all the genetic work and the dragon's immortality mojo. Somebody who didn't involuntarily share the pain of all those fucking useless slayer dreams.

Oh well. Never was much for long goodbyes. Like being gutshot, only over and over and more up close and personal. A lesson in authority not only done but seen to be done. Or was that line about justice? A woman's place. A slayer's place. No place. Fucked over and pissed on, what a way to go. Not for her the heroic end, oh no, which only proved her point. The silver lining's all in the going part. I'm sorry, B. You shoulda known better than to count on me. Spike's always got your back; you'll see, you're gonna be fine without.

Still.... What, no kiss before dying? That can't be right.

Out of gas. And the light was dying. There goes the neighborhood. She didn't know what made her open her eyes, just as she'd finally managed to shut them tight. Maybe it was thrall. Maybe it was those legendary spidey senses, but those didn't seem to be working too good tonight. Or maybe there was something to that connection they both denied. Sisters under the skin. Drusilla appeared at the end of the alley, which added whole new meanings to the dying light thing. Was she a figment? That thing people said about moving to the light, would they still say it if they knew Dru was in the way? Admittedly an angel, but still.

Everything in Dru's path seemed to freeze, like they could clearly see it coming, but couldn't move to get out of the way. Enter justice, holding the scales. Wasn't it the dolls, though, Dru was said to have blinded? Dru didn't look like she was in any hurry. She said 'I remember Prague', low and thoughtful, like she was starting an ordinary conversation, about to work the room. Heh. Faith hoped she was gonna live long enough to find out what the fuck she might do next. Give em hell, Dru, she thought to cheer, but no sound came out. Was she dead already, or was it just a bad connection? The odd thing was, no gameface. Guess Spike was right, she's got surprising down.

Everyone might have opted to flee the field, if they were smart or lucky. But Dru had the only exit covered. She pitied whoever was gonna have to scrub that brickwork later. Dru came down the alley like, hey, an avenging angel, one who clearly enjoyed her work. Faith had a front row seat, and admired her style. When she bent down at last, Faith had an urge to offer up her neck. Maybe she could become an angel too even yet. But nothing was moving. Maybe her back was broken. She thought, with so much blood already not in her, no one could blame Dru for going for whatever she had left, since it was just her nature. But she was wrong. Dru picked her up instead, like Faith was five; she did it carefully, like Faith might break in two. Her touch was oddly gentle.

Faith tried to form a smile in return; it must have looked a bit gory. Buffy and Spike arrived. Late with the cavalry. She saw B was struggling with the wrong conclusion in her eyes. Took pity on them all, looked at Dru full on for the very first time and said 'my hero'. Came out kind of mangled, but it did come out. She and Dru both snickered at how silly the whole thing was; okay, on Faith's end it might have sounded more like a gurgle, but the thought was there. And they call this life, she thought, half laughing at herself, and mercifully fainted.


End file.
